


I'd Tap That

by Pervasive_Threnody



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Established Relationship, Fluff, Fluff without Plot, Humor, M/M, Mild Language, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-19
Updated: 2017-09-19
Packaged: 2018-12-31 13:37:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 841
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12133644
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pervasive_Threnody/pseuds/Pervasive_Threnody
Summary: “Is this from–”“Yep.”“Is it for–”“Yep.”Without further ado Rodney seized the sides of the box, thought his door open, and dragged the box inside.  The door closed with an anti-climacticsnick.





	I'd Tap That

“McKay?”

“Yes, Colonel.”  The audible sigh that meant _I am only just tolerating your disturbance, and this is me punctuating my annoyance for effect._   “Just how may I help you today?”

“I’m stuck.  Help?”

“Stuck.”

“Yes, stuck.  Help me fix the door thingy.”

“Get one of my minions to help you with the, ah, ‘door thingy.’  Trying to redefine the laws of physics, here.”

“You do that every day.”

“Thank you for noticing.”

“Rod-neee…”

Another sigh, this time the one that meant _Oh, my God, they let you pilot aircraft?  How did you learn to tie your shoes, let alone pass a Mensa test?  Oh, wait, you don’t tie your shoes.  Explains so much._

“Where are you.”

“In a hallway…”

Crashing noises over the radio.  “How eloquently specific.  Level, sector, anything?”

“There’s a door here.”

“Oh, for – fine.  I'm – ow!  Ow!  Toe!  Toe goes into shoe and not floor!”

“Mensa’s finest.”

“So much ha-ha.  Sit down, touch nothing, and try not to get killed.  I’m on my–”

Rodney’s door opened.  On the other side was John.  Rodney stared.

“–way?”

“Hey.  You fixed the door thingy,” John said helpfully.  “Thanks.”

Rodney stared at the door thingy.  “I – what?  I did?”

“It was waiting for you to open it.  Just you.  So it was stuck.  But you un-stuck it.”

John shuffled his feet.  He watched Rodney’s face turn a fascinating new shade of red as Rodney jammed his fists into his hips and worked himself into a furious bitch rant.  He wouldn’t tell anyone, but he thought winding Rodney up like this was actually kinda fun.  Like, blowing things up with C-4, fun.  Same end result; less collateral damage.  Usually.

John bit his lip with anticipation.  He shuffled some more.

“You’re _really_ wasting my time with this?  _Really?_ You think this is funny, Sheppard?  Ever heard of the boy who cried wolf?  Think about that, because the next time you’re _actually in danger_ – _why_ are you shuffling like that?  Do you need to use the potty, Colonel?  Wait.”

Rodney bodily shoved John aside to reveal a medium-sized cardboard box resting on the floor.  Discarding useless human conventions like _politeness_ and _permission,_ he knelt and ripped open the loosely-taped lid to reveal the prize: row on row of Grade A Dark Color, Robust Taste pure maple syrup jugs, the kind with the cute little handles.

Rodney looked up at John.  His expression morphed into what John liked to call the _My God, It’s Full of Stars_ face.

“Is this from–”

“Yep.”

“Is it for–”

“Yep.”

Without further ado Rodney seized the sides of the box, thought his door open, and dragged the box inside.  The door closed with an anti-climactic _snick._

John looked at the door thingy.  He looked at the floor.  He chased some factorials around in his head.  He looked at his watch.

Wait for it…

Precisely fifteen seconds elapsed before Rodney remembered John was still there and the door opened again.  This time Rodney seized John by his sides and dragged him in too.

“Had me worried,” John said as he went happily along with the manhandling.  Rodney had the best manhandling.  “Took you almost twenty seconds.  Thought the sugar had already done you in.  Hey, aren’t Canadians supposed to be polite?”

“Shut up,” Rodney said.  He grabbed a jar by its cute little handle, unscrewed the cap and flung it into oblivion, and proceeded to tilt the contents down his maw.  Before John could get the words _wow, gross_ out of his mouth a tongue was shoved into it and he was backed powerfully and swiftly into the nearest wall.

Oh.

Wow.  Okay, not so gross.  _So_ not gross.

Rodney kissed John fiercely, big hand cradling his neck, painting the flavor of Dark Color, Robust Taste maple syrup onto every surface of John's mouth.  The liquid sugar danced on his tongue and burst into heady, nostalgic euphoria as Rodney kissed and kissed and kissed until John’s axial tilt corrected itself and he got with the program and kissed back.

Somebody moaned.  Hard to tell who.  John grabbed Rodney’s delicious, robust Canadian ass and hauled it toward the bed.

“Never – looking at that – flag – normally again,” John panted as he yanked at inconvenient pieces of Rodney’s clothing and sent them flying.  _O Canada._

Rodney stopped trying to suck John’s tongue out of his mouth and rip his pants off at the same time.  Somehow Rodney had landed on top.  John didn’t give a shit.

“Good thing I don’t, ah, wear it on missions, hm?”  Rodney’s blue, blue irises glittered with malice aforethought.  The de-pantsing resumed in earnest.  “I’m a clear and, and present danger.”

“You are,” John agreed.  “Serious threat to national…national…uh…”

“Security, Colonel.”

“Right.  That.”

“Shut up and kiss me.”

***

Later, after several jugs of very expensive and very delicious Dark Color, Robust Taste maple syrup had been consumed in very creative ways, John smiled lazily and pressed a sugary kiss to Rodney’s eyelids.

“Happy birthday, buddy,” he whispered.

“Mm.”  Rodney smacked his lips.  “Best…birthday present…ever.”

***

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Oh, _boys._ *sniff* I will never stop drawing hearts around you and smushing your faces together. Season 5 was just a really, really realistic nightmare. Okay?
> 
> So this story just…happened. Finally, after years of nothing, I have not just ideas but ideas that are partially finished drafts that are so close, and some that are finished but just aren’t editing the way they should, and they’re all nice dramas full of people with serious faces. And in the middle of all of these oh-so-important projects, I’m making homemade granola with maple syrup in it, and hey, what’s more Canadian than maple syrup? The leaf is on the _flag,_ goshdarnit. I bet Rodney loves his maple syrup. John should surprise him with the good stuff, lots of it.
> 
> …and then afterward there would be sort-of-sweet nothings (you know, really awkward, about _feelings, oh God_ ) and pillow talk, and John would whine, because the syrup doesn’t taste _sweet enough,_ and of course Rodney would have to snootily lecture the poor uncultured American about the differences between _real maple syrup_ and _the atrocity known as maple-flavored corn syrup,_ and the different intensities of flavor and like such as. I would guess Rodney favors the darker, more complex flavor (my favorite too!), which is what he got. I’m sure they all taste equally delicious when paired with a lightly-salted John Sheppard as appetizer and full-course meal. Lucky him. 
> 
> Cheers!


End file.
